Lorna’s chest tightened. That was exactly what she’d feared was in the pink letters that Trish kept writing.
“Still, I need to come. Is that okay?”
“Of course it’s okay,” he said, sounding snippy now. “I’ve been asking you to come to Florida for ages. I could use some help here. Text me the information and we’ll pick you up.”
“Thanks.” She wanted to say she missed him or she loved him. But she didn’t find either of those things to be true. He had ceased being a part of her life so long ago that she couldn’t even remember what it felt like to have a dad, much less love one. As a result, she felt nothing for him. Family was funny that way—either you were in it or you weren’t. There was no halfway. “I’ll see you soon,” she’d said softly.
Now she picked up the first pink letter. “Here goes nothing, Aggie,” she said, breaking the seal.
Trish’s handwriting was big and loopy.
Dear Lorna,
I hope you are well. We went to see Kristen today. They have her sitting up in the dayroom, watching TV. At least it appeared she was watching. But she didn’t show us any recognition.
“How could she? She never saw you either,” Lorna muttered.
Kristen drew something on a piece of paper. It was just a few lines, but it was progress.
She needs underwear and socks if you’d like to help with the purchase.
They have put her on antianxiety meds because she gets agitated.
We were going to take her out for some sun, but the wheelchair we rented wouldn’t fit in Dave’s truck.
Kristen’s hair is falling out. They think she might have an iron deficiency, but we would have to pay for that test.
And so on.
When Lorna had finished reading the pink letters, she drained the last of her wine. Then she picked up the stack of white letters and began to open them. They were all typewritten, spell-checked, and surprisingly chatty. She scanned them all, the words she’d written still ablaze in her brain. But when she read them one after another, she could see, couldfeel, the rage, the guilt, and the utter grief that dripped from each page.
It was little wonder she had locked herself away.
The true wonder was that she’d survived.
But Lorna had finally come to realize there was nothing she ever could have done to change the outcome of what happened. Of anything. Sure, she might have let Kristen stay, but there would have been a next time, and a next time, and a next time. Kristen had been on the road to this fate since she was ten years old. Maybe she’d been destined for it from the beginning. And the only person who could have stopped it, who could have changed the course of it, was Kristen. She either couldn’t or, for some subconscious reason, didn’t want to.
Lorna recalled what a substance abuse counselor had once told her. “Your sister likely won’t change until she hits rock bottom,” she’d said. “And she hasn’t hit it yet. Remember, we are talking her rock bottom. Not what you think her rock bottom is. Not whatyourrock bottom is. You must make peace with loving her from afar.”
Well, she guessed Kristen had finally hit her rock bottom.
She stacked the white letters next to the pink and picked up the accordion file Peggy had given her. She took out the papers and began to sort through the details of the will and the trust.
There were so many papers in that file—a death certificate, papers from probate. A certificate from the cemetery. Her mother’s banking information. And then Lorna found what she’d been looking for—the information on the trust itself.
She read through it. Then read through it again. After a moment of disbelief, she burst into laughter so loud that Aggie jumped up from a dead sleep and barked. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. After all the agony of getting to this trust, there was only $7,500 in it. That was it, all her mother had left after her own illness and Kristen’s continued care and the settling of her estate.
The next morning, on her way to Bodhi for the last time (unless, as Xandra said, she wanted to cough up $500 a week for services), Lorna received a text from Callie.
We are back from vacation. Our middle kid keeps asking about Bean. Maybe you could bring him and come for a glass of wine in the next couple of weeks? Do you even drink? What do you do? You were so weird when you were here I was afraid to ask.
Lorna was stunned. And ridiculously over-the-moon pleased. She quickly fired back a response.Oh my God, I am so glad you gotin touch. Yes, I drink on occasion. And I am trying to be less weird. Feel free to point out all weirdness so I can work on it.
Callie texted back; they made a plan to meet.
Lorna had emailed Deb this morning to let her know she was attending her last session and that the program wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d expected. She admitted to learning a few things about herself.
Deb almost immediately wrote back.Great! So happy to hear it. I can’t wait to have you back in the office.
